


someday, i'll fly

by propeller



Series: everything that i know about you. [10]
Category: Dolan Twins - Fandom
Genre: AU, Asthma, Death, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soft Grayson, ethan's protective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23198581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propeller/pseuds/propeller
Summary: When the doctor first announced that Grayson had COPD - all of them refused to believe it. Lisa had urged them to look at the survival rates; and it wasn't something that bothered them again for a long time. Until, what seemed like a regular doctor's check-up, revealed that his lungs had gotten worse, and that Gray wasn't expected to live much longer.How could people take something as simple as breathing, for granted - which Grayson struggled to do?
Relationships: Ethan Dolan & Grayson Dolan, Ethan Dolan/Grayson Dolan
Series: everything that i know about you. [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454998
Comments: 19
Kudos: 26





	someday, i'll fly

**Author's Note:**

> missed you all too much.  
> based on a few different requests combined; but mainly from @YellowSubm768 who asked for a soft-gray fic where he's about to "die" but hides his emotions. also vaguely from @gradolqns' request about grayson finally opening himself up to ethan.
> 
> crucial reminder - both of the twins are safe, and healthy, and they'll hopefully always remain that way. this is a work of fiction, and it's important to remember that.

* * *

"I don't _fucking_ understand. It was a deviated septum; nothing more. I can breathe much easier. Can't the doctor see that?" Grayson glanced towards Ethan in disbelief - who could barely meet his eyes in fear of revealing his vulnerability.

They had just returned from an annual doctor check-up, back in New Jersey. The twins were visiting Lisa for the weekend, and thought that they'd kill two birds with one stone. They did _not_ expect to be told that Grayson's COPD was only getting worse; despite all the attempts to help make it "better." The drive home from the clinic had been gravely silent - all of them processing the information that _Grayson could die._

 _Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease._ It was a label that Grayson had had for the majority of his life, and it was something that had never bothered him in the way that people would think it would. Yeah, so, maybe he woke up some nights completely breathless - and maybe it meant that he had to carry his inhaler with him even on the _smallest_ of journeys; but it was nothing too bad, _right?_ Ethan was always there for him on the days that he felt as if he were suffocating - by silently rubbing his back, or leading him outside for fresh air. And, Ethan wouldn't leave the house without a back-up inhaler, _just in case._

Because, while Grayson wasn't _all_ that concerned about his situation - Ethan _was._ He'd look over towards Grayson in concern whilst Grayson was in a fit of laughter; making sure that there was nothing wrong with Gray's breathing; before joining in. Ethan didn't realise how much he did it, until Grayson had asked him why he was always _staring at him._

 _Because I never want anything bad to happen to you._ Was what Ethan wanted to say - but the words never left his thoughts, and were never physically voiced.

But, right at that moment - Lisa was covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes glossy - expecting Grayson's outburst. "No, no - of course, you're going to be fine, Gray. Come here."

When Grayson walked towards her in defeat, and allowed himself to be wrapped up in her arms; she could almost swear that it was as if she was back in the hospital ward again, when her beautiful boys had just been born - and it had been one of the happiest moments of her life. He was warm, and expressive, and he was everything that made Grayson, _Grayson._ Even now, there was no difference. She still saw her two boys with the same love and affection that she had for them all those years ago. In fact, the love only increased. She ruffled Grayson's hair, resting her head on his shoulder.

But, only Ethan could see the utter despair, and melancholy in Lisa's eyes; and Ethan gripped the table's edges as if he were holding on for his life, his knuckles turning white.

"What aren't you telling me, Mom?" Grayson's voice wavered as he asked, holding back his emotions. If feelings were waves, then his mind was currently an _ocean._

"You're so strong, bub. I won't let anything happen to you." Lisa reassured, closing her eyes; avoiding Grayson's sentence.

" _Tell me._ " Grayson demanded, pulling back, and crossing his arms. His black jeans, and black turtleneck seemed like such a grave color for the situation.

"There's _nothing_ you should be worrying ab-" Lisa began.  
"Just _fucking tell him, Mom._ " Ethan interrupted sharply - his eyes narrowing, and his lips thinning.

Realising both of her sons were staring at her, waiting for answers that she could never provide - Lisa drew a shaky breath, before sitting down on the dining chair. She had always thought that despite the statistics, _it wouldn't affect Grayson in that way._ Her boy would _always be strong, and healthy, right?_ But, how wrong she was. How fucking wrong.

* * *

It had been three months since then.

His appointed GP's had all told him to avoid anywhere with excessive pollution; and to avoid being puffed out as much as he could. Which meant he couldn't even go to the gym, anymore. He was also told to avoid pollen; and _definitely_ barbeques, bonfires, fireworks, and basically _anything fun_ \- in Grayson's opinion. His doctor told him that it was to avoid his lungs getting weaker than they already were. Since it was progressive; they didn't want to take any risks.

So, since he was basically inside his house 25/8 - poor Ethan was, too. Ethan's argument was that he never had fun without Grayson, and that he'd rather be with him than anywhere else. _Damn, his brother really was an angel in a devil's disguise._

It affected their video uploads to their channel. Since they rarely left the house; they were restricted to challenges, and video ideas that took place inside their house - and there really wasn't much they could do without laughing. _Which Grayson wasn't allowed to do much of either._

But, the specialist never told him he couldn't _cry._ And, unfortunately - as much as he fucking _hated_ feeling like a pussy - he found himself doing that often. They weren't even dramatic sobs; just silent tears that made his face wet without permission. Grayson also found himself zoning out a lot - and Kyle, or Ethan would have to shake him back into reality - annoyed.

Since Grayson didn't want to admit his progressive mood swings, and the fact that he was just so _fucking sad_ about everything - he would always yell at Ethan if Ethan opened Gray's door whilst Grayson was in the middle of crying; helpless with his thoughts, and mind, and feelings. Ethan had always just assumed that Gray was _jacking one off_ , and had always closed the door, and left without another word.

Apart from crying, and trying to distract yourself from the situation at hand - what else were you supposed to do when you _knew that you were about to, quite possibly, fucking die?_

* * *

Grayson awoke with a startle; his breathing heavy, and barely there. He fumbled for his inhaler, realising it was just another bad dream. One of those dreams - where they were he was in the hospital, and they were about to take him off his oxygen-supply; and his family couldn't hear him telling them to stop; because he didn't have enough energy, or breath to be able to talk.

 _He just couldn't keep it to himself, anymore._ Grayson _needed_ a distraction. He needed a warm body. He needed a glimpse of reality; rather than having to force a fake smile everyday, and live in the shadows of his nightmares.

He needed _Ethan._ The person who completed all of his sentences, before he could even say them. The person who always knew how he was feeling, without even needing words. His _twin._

Sniffling, Grayson ignored the creaking of those _stupid, stupid_ floorboards that the neighbours could probably hear, too. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, admonishing himself silently because _he made a promise_ to himself to _not cry._ Emotions weren't of any use - they never benefitted their weekly video uploads; and his feelings were transparent to his audience, and his fans - who knew him almost as well as Ethan did.

He stepped into Ethan's dimly-lit room. The sheets were rumpled, and the curtains were slightly drawn - allowing the moonlight to accentuate Ethan's features. Ethan's face was glistening from recent tears, but Grayson didn't notice.

"Eth." He murmured, holding in his breath - watching his brother flinch in his sleep. Ethan's eyelids fluttered, but he barely registered anything.

 _"Ethan."_ Grayson croaked again, nudging Ethan's leg softly. Ethan automatically slid down the bed, holding out his arms - all without opening his eyes. Wordlessly, Grayson took his spot next to him, resting his head on Ethan's pillow; observing the face he was so familiar with. Ethan's arm tightened around Grayson's waist protectively.

"Go to sleep, dumb fuck." Ethan mumbled sleepily, pulling Grayson closer. Grayson smiled softly. Even if it was for one night; balance was restored in his world. And, death didn't seem to loom over him in such an intimidating manner anymore.

* * *

The months had dragged on - and it was almost as if Cam, Lisa, Ethan, and himself had been biting their nails with anticipation for Grayson's next appointment - where the doctors would take him under supervision, and monitor his breathing, and lung-condition. His GP had countlessly reassured him that it'd surely be positive news; but who could be sure? It had been the worst six months of his life; not knowing whether he'd see the sun again in the morning - and endless Google searches about those in a similar condition. They hadn't even told their viewers.

It was a breath of relief within appointments, when they were reassured that Grayson was currently doing fine - but they were never given any dates; or any expectations on how long his good health could last.

Ethan was in Grayson's bed, like usual. Their legs were entwined, and they were wearing sweatpants, and their favourite, matching robes. They seemed to wordlessly fall into the same bed, lately. Not wanting to take any chances. Grayson was coming closer, and closer to the one-year-mark of his condition being marked as 'serious' and even Grayson was apprehensive, lately. He couldn't control his own _fucking body._

" _Gray,_ what's wrong?" Ethan stopped scrolling on his phone, and asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure if he heard Grayson sniffle from crying, or if it was just allergies.

Grayson's face was buried into the pillow, and he mumbled incoherently.

'Speak up." Ethan put his iPhone down, and placed a warm hand on Gray's bare back instead - realizing that Grayson was trembling.

" _Nothing."_ It was repeated, firmly this time.

"Doesn't sound like 'nothing' to me." Ethan shrugged off, before returning his attention to his Twitter feed. They were tip-toeing on eggshells lately; avoiding the words ' _doctor_ ' and ' _appointment'_ and ' _the future_.' Their coping mechanism seemed to be pretending that everything was fine. _Which it really wasn't._

_Fake it til' you make it, right?_

_Or until your lungs stop working, and you stop breathing, and you pass out - and end up on a hospital bed._ Grayson thought to himself, snorting midst tears. God, he _hated_ crying around Ethan. He wanted to be _tough._ He wanted to be able to handle the shit that was thrown at him.

_He'd be okay. Someday._

" _Someday, I'll fly_." Ethan read aloud. Grayson instantly looked up - realising that Ethan had Grayson's phone in his hand. _Fuck, he'd forgotten to put a password on his phone again._

"Give me my phone back." Grayson lunged for it - his ears turning red. It was a poem that Grayson had written. He was turning all-cheesy, and the thought repulsed him.

The Notes app was open on Grayson's phone, and Ethan held it out of his reach. " _Someday, I'll fly. I'll soar amongst the birds. So light, and barely there. Someday, I'll fly; wings spreading out beneath me - thousands of feet high_." Ethan continued, pausing at the last sentence.

"Shut the fuck up." Grayson was _so_ glad that it was only the two of them in the room. His face felt as if it were burning.

Ethan slumped back into his original position, realising it wasn't a joke. His eyes skimmed over the rest of the words. " _I've still got dreams - but they're not the same. They don't fly as high as they used to._ " Ethan murmured, his voice wavering.

When Ethan held the phone out of Grayson's reach again as he tried to take it back; Grayson gave up, and rolled his eyes - deciding not to give a shit anymore.

" _I saw his face; it's been in my head. And, I said - "you don't remember me, do you?"_ Ethan could barely even say the words anymore - skipping sentences, and realising what it meant.

" _But, someday, I'll fly. Amongst the stars, and the clouds. You won't miss me, it's not worth it."_ Grayson finished the poem for him, looking away as he did so.

Ethan exhaled sharply, not knowing what to say. He was literally speechless.

They both stared at each other for a few minutes - Grayson, too embarrassed to reply - and Ethan, too stunned to speak.

"Never knew you were a New York bestselling-author, Shakespeare." Ethan joked light-heartedly. When Grayson ignored him; he sighed.

"Why didn't you say anything, Gray?"

"What the fuck was I supposed to say? _Oh, hey, might die, but that's cool - wanna go out for burgers?_ "

"Anything. You literally could've said anything." Ethan's gaze bore into Grayson's features - and he suddenly felt exhausted. Tired beyond words.

"There's nothing I wanna say. Goodnight." It was hastily-said. Anything to avoid the conversation that was about to happen. Grayson turned off his lamp, and lay down - staring at the ceiling.

"Can you stop acting like a fucking two-year-old?"

"Oh, yeah, sure - but is there anything that I _can do?_ Since everyone wants me to stop doing _everything_ I do." Grayson snapped, glaring at Ethan.

"You know I hate holding you back from doing shit you like. Why do you think I never do anything outside anymore? I hate doing shit without you. We just wan- _need_ you to stop risking your health, _Grayson._ " Ethan snapped back, his eyes adjusting on Grayson in the dark.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm really tired, dude." Grayson put his arm over his eyes - diminishing any chance of Ethan protesting against it. Ethan stared at him for a couple of beats, before shrugging and turning to the other side. _He'd talk about it with him in the morning. Everything would be okay._ Was his last thought, before he shut his eyes- too exhausted to wrack his mind with possibilities further.

* * *

When he heard whimpering, the same night - Ethan instantly knew something was wrong. He was barely asleep - and he was _almost certain_ that something happened to Grayson. His ~~spidey~~ twin senses were _tingling._

"Gray." He sat up, yawning as he did so. Grayson barely acknowledged him, and pushed away Ethan's arm.

"I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong." Ethan murmured, so, _so hopeless._ Why couldn't Grayson let him help _him?_ Was it too much to ask for?

"Nothing's wrong, Eth. Go back to sleep." Grayson said huskily - trying his best to sound composed. Truth was; he didn't know what was wrong either. Just like every other time he had a nightmare, and couldn't remember it.

"Oh, yeah, your face's just magically wet, right? Unless, _you're crying, and you won't let me fucking help you_ because you're so up your own ass that you can't even acknowledge how the rest of us feel." Ethan deadpanned, regretting it as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up." Grayson sat up, facing Ethan. The veins in his arms visibly tensed. "Every doctor we've ever been to says I'm going to die, Ethan. They say that there's not much hope for lungs like mine; because I was born with it. Something crushed my lungs in the womb; and they've never been the same since. I can't even get a lung transplant, because there's too many risks since I have _asthma_. They say the fact that I've even survived this long is a miracle; because identical twins like us are born with too many health problems, and the _survival rate is always low._ And, then you pull up with your bullshit about "being up my own ass?" Fuck you, Ethan. Just fuck off." His jaw clenched, and his fists tightened.

Ethan deflated like a balloon without air.

" _Grayson, I -"_

"Please, E, I'm fine. For real." Grayson argued, tears dripping down his cheeks as he said it. He wiped them away angrily, meeting Ethan's concerned gaze.

'The appointment's tomorrow. You dunno what's gonna happen. You might be off the hook. You’re doing real well; and you're breathing better than ever." Ethan said half-heartedly, holding one of Grayson's hands. 

Grayson shook his head, utterly defeated. "The check-ups are _always_ the fucking worst. They make me feel insane, E. I can't-" He cupped his face in his hands, shaking his head. Ethan pulled him towards his chest immediately, enveloping him from the world. Times like these were when Ethan realized he had a natural instinct to want to protect his twin from anything, and everything. The fact that he couldn't just tell death to 'fuck off' was what made Ethan feel so lost, and as if he were stranded on an island without any maps.

"I don't anybody to die, _Ethan_ , I _don't want to die._ " Grayson cried, his nose scrunching up, and his face turning red. "Please _don't let anything happen to me._ "

Ethan felt Grayson's earring linger on his forearm, and he rubbed his back comfortingly. "Nobody's dying, Gray. We're okay. _We're okay._ I promise." Ethan didn't believe it himself, because really, who knew when they would all die? It's not like life gave you expiration dates. Grayson's hair was still damp from his shower from before he went to bed; but and Ethan was getting soaked - but he didn't even notice. 

"I'm scared that you'll forget about me." It was barely audible, but Ethan heard every syllable. A lock of hair fell into his eye as he tilted Grayson's chin up, and shook his shoulders - his own eyes brimming with hesitant tears. "Why the _fuck_ would you even say that?" Ethan tried to steady his own breathing, but it was almost impossible. Before he knew it; he felt hot tears run down his own face - and that was his undoing. How could he conceal weeks of emotion for any longer?

"That you'll move on - and act like I never existed." He continued, not meeting Ethan's gaze.

"When I'm gone." Grayson wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, looking up.

"You're not going anywhere. Stop saying that." It was as if he were being punched, but the blows were the words. Reality. The fact that Grayson wouldn't be around one day. The fact that Ethan could wake up to an empty bed. An empty house. A wardrobe full of clothes that belonged to a person who _wasn't there anymore._

"I'm not letting you go anywhere. You’re not fucking _dying._ " He continued, when Grayson didn't respond.

_How was life fair?_

"I hate thinking about dying all the time, Eth. It's like my mind's a broken record, and it keeps spinning on the thought that tomorrow isn't promised."

"We'll make the most of the time you have left. We don't have to do anything you don't want to. I'll - I'll _make you breakfast_ every day. There. I'll wake up at the _asscrack_ of dawn everyday, and make you waffles - _vegan waffles._ With the maple syrup that you're obsessed with. Oh, and I'll do the grocery shopping for you - and, and - you can stay home and watch those wilderness videos you're obsessed with - but _please,_ Grayson, _don't cry._ " Ethan could barely talk, and tears blurred his vision.

"Please." Ethan stuttered, pulling his twin brother towards him, and resting his head against Grayson's shivering body; instantly relieved by Gray's soft, but audible heartbeats.

"You'll even wash the dishes?" Grayson smiled softly, and he heard Ethan's laughter vibrate against his chest. "Every. Fucking. Day." He snorted, as if it were obvious.

"But, just - please don't leave me." Ethan looked up at him from his eyelashes - offering the most fleeting of smiles. "It's not up to me, assclown." Grayson nudged Ethan, but paused when he saw the anxiousness in Ethan's posture. "But, if it were up to me - I'd haunt you for the rest of my life; and there's no way you'd get rid of me."

Ethan shook his head before slapping the back of Grayson's head. "You better."

Like clockwork, Grayson slapped him back - and they both fell back onto the bed, before meeting each other's eyes. Their hazel irises were almost identical.

"You were right about me being up my own ass. I've literally been such a dickhead to everyone, lately. Especially Mom. I'm such a little bitch."  
"Nah, I didn't mean it. You know I didn't."  
"I'm nervous about tomorrow, E. What if the specialist says tha-"  
"Don't even think about it." Ethan put his hand over Grayson's mouth, shaking his head. "You'll be okay."

Grayson gave him a small nod, before eventually closing his eyes.

"And, even if you're not - you can always just recite your little poem to the rest of the hospital ward." Ethan added, grinning.  
Grayson snorted, without even opening his eyes. "I don't think ' _Someday I'll Fly'_ would be an appropriate poem for people with broken legs, and pelvises."

They both smiled to themselves, and Ethan rolled his eyes internally. Birds began chirping outside; indicating that the sun was almost about to rise.

"I love you, Gray. More than anything."

"I know."

Seemingly satisfied with the answer; Ethan snuggled against Grayson again - and they both lay there - a comfortable blanket of silence overlapping them. Their steady breathing, and the ticking of the clock above seemed to suddenly become the most soothing lullaby that they'd ever heard - _or perhaps it was their sheer exhaustion_ \- but they both fell asleep within minutes. And, for once, there were no bad dreams.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued maybe  
> y'all remember when i wasn't such a softie & wrote actual smut? yea me neither.


End file.
